


A gust, a breeze

by Rainripple



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28760691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainripple/pseuds/Rainripple
Summary: Eustace and Vaseraga go on a walk
Relationships: Eustace/Vaseraga (Granblue Fantasy)
Kudos: 2





	A gust, a breeze

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based off a walk I went on a while ago. This has been sat in my wip folder for a couple months now lol I forgot it was there until recently. 
> 
> "Emily when will you finally start working on one of your multi-chap fics" *looks away* 
> 
> Happy new year by the way! (2 weeks late I know) I hope to write many more Eustace fics this year, esp with the anni event around the corner.
> 
> As always you can come talk to me at my twitter @LuckyRainripple and you can also read my Eustace powerpoint (it's in the pinned tweet).

It’s mid afternoon on a mild autumn day. Their schedules are free for the moment so they put their boots on and leave the small house they call their home. It’s not too cold so they dress light, no more than a double layer at most. 

Eustace and Vaseraga follow the path out of the quiet cul-de-sac, up until the road splits three ways and turns from stone to dirt. They take a right. The gate into the fields is a tight squeeze - clearly not constructed with draph sizes in mind - but Vaseraga manages. For most of the walk, the path is wide enough for them to be side by side, hands brushing together occasionally. At times, Vaseraga walks behind Eustace to make way for someone coming in the opposite direction. Some parts of the path are muddy from last night’s rain but after everything they’ve been through, it’s barely a challenge. There is a gentle incline sloping upwards.

The climate is temperate, a nice compromise for them both. It’s not frigid like North Vast nor is it swelteringly hot like Valtz Duchy. The grass is a vibrant green, the hedges turning brown, leaves crisping up on their way down to the earth. The only other sounds around them are the birds chirping. They don’t talk - there’s no need to.

At the peak, they take a moment to pause. Behind them is part of the village they live in, just a pub and a few houses. In front of them, the grey outline of the mountains and the foothills can be seen. Above that, an outline of the moon, faint in the daylight, shines as a reminder of old battles gone by. 

On their way down, they pass by several dog walkers. Eustace doesn’t say anything but Vaseraga can tell by how his ears twitch that he’s happy to see them. They don’t have one yet but he wouldn’t be surprised if Eustace brought the idea up with him one day.

After passing a babbling brook, they follow some twisting paths back to the cluster of houses they live among. One house is having maintenance. The noise of the drill is jarring but fades when they have passed far enough. At another, they stop briefly to chat with the old woman tending to her garden. They accept her invitation to come over for tea on a different day.

Eventually they arrive back home. As a habit, they’d taken their weapons with them just in case they encountered monsters but thankfully they did not need to leave their holsters even once. 

Eustace turns on the stove while Vaseraga takes their boots into the back to rinse. The stray cat that’s taken residence in their back garden is there to greet him. Vaseraga humours it with a few tickles.

He comes back inside just as Eustace finishes off their drinks - hot milk for Vaseraga, just water for Eustace. They settle on the couch together with an inch or two between them. Vaseraga rests one arm on the back behind Eustace’s head. He uses disentangling the windswept mess (if it can really be called that) that his hair has become to card his hands through it. Eustace doesn’t show any signs of discomfort, not even when Vaseraga’s fingers brush against his ears.

It’s peaceful times like now that they’ve really come to appreciate. Actually having a moment to rest and not worry about the Society feels bizarre but Vaseraga relishes it. 

He prefers not to be too idle, lest he start feeling bad about some past grievance that he long should have gotten over. Vaseraga leans over to kiss Eustace’s ear and then his cheek.

“What are you doing?” 

“Nothing.”

“Oh really?” Eustace sounds amused. 

Vaseraga feels Eustace gently grab his horn to pull him in for a proper kiss. They have the foresight to put their mugs down before Vaseraga pushes them down to a more horizontal position. The restricted sofa space makes it a little more intimate, bodies close together but not at all feeling oppressive. Vaseraga leans in for another kiss, one hand cupping the left side of Eustace’s face while the other slides underneath his yellow turtleneck.

Eustace lets out a breathless chuckle.

“What?” Vaseraga asks.

“Nothing. Just happy.” He certainly looks it too. He has one of those small, rare smiles on, the ones that make Vaseraga feel warm inside. 

Vaseraga once again feels glad that he’s lived long enough to enjoy moments such as this.


End file.
